


Sleeping your Way Up

by tucuxi



Series: Through the looking-glass: Naruto genderswap!AU [10]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, Genderbending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-26
Updated: 2011-06-26
Packaged: 2017-10-20 19:39:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tucuxi/pseuds/tucuxi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iruka adjusts to life as a brand-new assistant instructor at the Academy.  (Iruka is 19)</p><p>Part of the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/6842">Through the Looking-Glass</a> genderswap AU universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeping your Way Up

It takes Iruka a little while to get used to the idea that Naruto will be in her first class: he has the monster that killed her parents bound inside of him and who knows why he has those whisker-marks on his cheeks? Iruka knows from personal experience exactly how much credence to put into rumors, but it’s still hard to separate suspicion and superstition from the memory of her parents’ deaths. But she knows she doesn’t have enough pull to merit asking for a switch: there’s a reason she’s the assistant teacher getting his year and his class. The Sandaime doesn’t seem at all surprised when she mentions it, just smiles and mentions that if Iruka hadn’t been able to take the class, several children would have had to drop out of the Academy: the class size would have had to be reduced because of Aoba-sensei’s age.

And so Iruka makes her peace with it as best she can, before the Hokage takes her to see Naruto’s apartment, a one-room studio that’s just messy enough to show a seven year-old boy lives there and just empty enough to make Iruka ache for him. _He doesn’t have any photographs_ , she realizes, after she’s gone home to think it over, _he doesn’t even have a picture of his parents_. Iruka looks at the shelf of photographs here in her bedroom and thinks about all the other pictures that fill her house, about what it would be like to not remember, to not even know what her parents looked like.

If what the Hokage told her is any guide, Naruto hasn’t ever had even a foster-parent - just a cycle of nominal caretakers until he was old enough to dress and feed himself. Now that he’s old enough to enroll at the Academy full-time, he lives alone. And as much as his classmates complain about their parents, and would probably envy Naruto if he weren’t such a pariah, Iruka knows exactly how it feels to be parentless. At least she has the memory of her family: Naruto seems to have nothing at all. That seems to be what makes up her mind, so she supposes the Sandaime’s ruse worked on her, after all.

Knowing all this doesn’t make it _easier_ , exactly — she’s still a little leery of the boy from sheer habit, if nothing else — but it gives her a little bit of ballast before she heads to the classroom on the first day and sees him trying to suspend an eraser between the door and the frame, giggling as one of the girls hisses at him to _sit down right now!_ She keeps her temper but it’s a near thing and he looks disappointed when she simply takes the eraser away and tells him sharply to sit back down.

* * *

It kind of surprises Iruka that the kids take to her so quickly: she doesn’t cut them any slack at all. She’s not their friend — which she knows some of the other assistant teachers are trying to be — she’s their teacher. When they’re disruptive, she makes them sit back down; when they make a mistake, she corrects it; when they try to play a prank on her, she spoils it, and makes the kids responsible stay late or clean up. But she doesn’t lose her temper for the entire first week, which clearly surprises Mizuki, as well as some of the other teachers: Iruka herself isn’t really sure how she managed it. Aoba-sensei, whose supervision has largely involved handing her lesson plans and letting Iruka teach as she sees fit, claps her on the shoulder surprisingly strongly for such an old man, and tells her she’s doing well.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, that next Monday ruins it. Also unsurprisingly, the first kid Iruka yells at is Naruto, sending him into the hallway. But then Iruka turns to Shikamaru, Choji and Kiba, and points them out into the hallway as well — and they look surprised by that. When Naruto sees the three of them walk out of the classroom to join him in the hallway, he looks utterly shocked. Shikamaru, Iruka can see, also looks grudgingly impressed, and Iruka wonders at him, not for the last time: he’s clearly smart, though you’d never know it from the work she’s seen him do in class.

When she’s finished yelling at all four of them — and since they mixed _paint_ with the mud, she has plenty to say — she sends them all back into the classroom with instructions to start cleaning it up. Three kids dash into the classroom, eager to get away from her. But Naruto hangs back.

“Well, Naruto?” Iruka snaps, “get in there and get cleaning.” He looks up at her in surprise.

“But —“ he starts, and then looks at his feet. “Yutaka-sensei always has me stand in the hallway.”

“Well,” Iruka tells him, tartly, “I’m not Yutaka-sensei. You made that mess. Get in there and clean it up with everyone else.”

She’s not sure any other kid in the history of the Academy has ever _grinned_ at his teacher before for being told to go mop up a classroom covered in orange mud.

It really shouldn’t surprise Iruka that Naruto pulls even more pranks in class after that, or that he smiles like the sun coming out from behind a cloud whenever she catches him and yells at him. She writes short apologetic notes to one or two of her teachers, who’d put up with her during her last year at the Academy, and does her best to stay one step ahead of her class. If nothing else, it definitely keeps her busy for the first few weeks: she doesn’t have a chance to get lunch with Mizuki or to meet the other teachers very often, and she spends most recess periods chasing one or another of her kids, until they’ve finally all (except Naruto) established to their satisfaction that she _will_ catch them.

Gradually, the kids go back to playing normally (or as normally as shinobi kids do) and by the beginning of her fourth week, Iruka can look forward to maybe interacting with other adults once in a while during recess or lunch.

* * *

The other teachers at the Academy are something of a mixed set: Iruka doesn’t think there’s any single thing they all have in common, other than the ability to put up with a room of shinobi kids five days a week. A few of the other assistant teachers are younger than she is, but Iruka finds she doesn’t mind as much as she’d feared she would. (There was a time not so long ago when seeing someone younger than her on the same job _stung_ : she’s glad that’s not the case anymore, not here.) One of the youngest ones is someone Iruka actually took on a D-rank mission a few years back, filling in for a jounin-sensei who’d come down with something contagious. It’s not as though Iruka had needed three brand-new genin to help re-capture the daimyo’s wife’s cat, at that point, but she’d figured their teamwork was more important than whether or not they actually caught the cat within an hour. It’s actually kind of nice to catch up with Touza, to find out what he and his genin teammates are up to these days: one has made tokujo, and the other is studying medicine.

The full instructors are much more varied: Mizuki and a handful of others are only a few years older than Iruka; they skip up in age from there to Aoba-sensei, who will be retiring after this year — he’s older than the Sandaime, if rumors are to be believed. Iruka likes her co-workers well enough overall (one or two politely ignore her, and she returns the favor). There’s just one exception: Yutaka-sensei, who hasn’t much cared for Iruka since she and Hayate wallpapered a classroom just before graduation with comics saved up from months and months of newspapers. They had cleaned it up, and apologized, but Yutaka-sensei had still been furious when they weren’t failed for it. Iruka is painfully polite, and doesn’t sit near her if there are other seats available during conferences or meetings; she figures things are going well when she’s been teaching for almost a month and Yutaka-sensei has mostly ignored her. All in all, it’s a good first month.

* * *

Really, Iruka thinks as she stalks back out to the schoolyard to retrieve a student, she should have expected this: things had been going much too well this morning to last.

“But you know,” Yutaka-sensei says to her assistant teacher — Midori something, Iruka thinks — as Iruka jogs past, looking for one of her kids, “they say she — oh —“ The voices fade as she runs out of earshot, and when Iruka gets outside, she sees Kiba standing in the sandbox, happily directing Akamaru to demolish a tower several other kids spent recess constructing. Iruka sighs, and puts her hands on her hips.

“Kiba-kun,” she says, “it’s time to come to class.” He doesn’t look up from his tower-smashing. Iruka knows he’s stubborn — he’s one of the students she would have been warned about, she thinks, if Naruto weren’t in his class. She also knows, because she was his age once, and probably a worse trouble-maker than he is now, that there are several things she can do wrong here. She could try to wheedle him away, promising rewards and treats — she’s seen one of the other assistant teachers try that with a younger kid. She could yell and bluster and try to scare him back into class: but she gets the feeling that Kiba doesn’t scare easily, and that usually goes badly in the long term. She could attempt to reason with him despite his ignoring her, which would be about as effective as talking to the sandbox itself; every word he ignored would decrease his opinion of her authority. So Iruka marches over, picks him up by the scruff — the back — of his collar (she went to school with some Inuzukas, after all) and carries him back into the classroom, kicking and waving his arms and yelling the whole way, Akamaru yipping at her heels and trying very hard to bite her achilles tendon with needle-sharp puppy teeth.

Yutaka-sensei and Midori just watch her silently as she walks by, though Iruka thinks that Midori might giggle a little bit at the picture they present. (Iruka doesn’t blame her: she’s sure they look ridiculous.)

Iruka slides the classroom door open, catching the eraser on the back of her foot and popping it up in the air to catch it, and drops Kiba in his seat with a cautionary squeeze on the back of his neck before she goes to the front of the room.

“All right,” she says, “now that we’re all here, let’s get started.” In the back of the room, she thinks Aoba-sensei looks approving, but he doesn’t say anything: today, he told her, he would officially only be observing, no matter what.

* * *

When Kiba tries to complain to his mother that afternoon when she comes to meet him and his sister Hana at school, Tsume grins delightedly at Iruka and pulls her into a nearly bone-crushing hug. “That’s more like it!” Tsume exclaims, pushing Iruka back with both hands on her shoulders and looking her up and down. “It’s about time they hired someone who knows how to corral my kids.” Iruka smiles a little awkwardly and says she’ll do her best. She’s more proud of herself than she’ll admit for not jumping when Tsume’s ninken adds: “Good job, kid,” before barking at Akamaru and the Haimaru brothers, who have started playing some kind of game of tag and tripping people while Kiba and Hana cheer them on.

Shinobi parents are _weird_ , Iruka thinks. Then she shrugs it off and dashes over to peel Choji away from a slightly older boy who’s just called him a fatty.

* * *

A few days later, Yutaka-sensei and Midori are standing just inside the door to the playground, and Iruka hears her name as her class troops past.

“Ten laps,” she says to the class, “and you’re to run as a group. No racing off alone, Naruto, and no walking, Shikamaru. Shino, set the pace.”

Then Iruka moves to lean against the outside wall of the school, close enough to hear the two women talking by the doorway: she can’t help being curious.

“… unconventional class control? The way she carried him!” Midori sounds astonished, curious.

“Well, you know how she _got_ the job, don’t you?” Yutaka-sensei’s voice is low, confidential. “She’s certainly not _qualified_.” There’s a moment of silence, and then Midori:

“You don’t mean—!” She sounds horrified and fascinated at the same time.

“It’s not as though she sets a good example for the students, is it?” Yutaka-sensei continues, doling out gossip one chunk at a time.

Yutaka-sensei snickers, and Iruka digs her nails into the palms of her hands. She promised herself she wouldn’t make a scene, not in her first week, her first month as an assistant teacher, not at all. She all but promised the Sandaime the same thing, and she’s not going to get angry about the same things some people have been saying about her for years. Her class starts on the third lap, Naruto bouncing back and forth, sometimes running circles around the group, Shikamaru just barely jogging.

Iruka steps away from the wall. “Naruto,” she bellows, hands on her hips, “run _with_ the group, not around it!” She steps back, hoping the other two women will have taken the hint and stopped talking about her. They’ve got to know she can hear them from where she’s standing.

“… heard that Aoba-sensei _asked_ for her?” Midori offers, a little hesitantly.

“Hm?” Yutaka-sensei’s voice is quiet, but not quiet enough.

“Oh, no, dear,” she corrects Midori, “not Aoba-sensei. The Sandaime _personally_ appointed her.” Iruka can hear the malice in her voice and realizes: she’s supposed to be hearing this. She clenches her hands into fists at her sides and stares out at the track, watching two dozen little heads bounce up and down. _This is why I’m here_ she thinks, looking at her class, _they’re why I’m here_.

“I — really?” Midori says: she sounds shocked. “I thought Aoba-sensei wanted —“

“No,” Yutaka-sensei tells her, lowering her voice even more. _Don’t listen_ , Iruka’s common sense tells her, _step away. Eavesdroppers never hear anything good about themselves_. “You _know_ how he likes pretty girls.”

Midori gasps. “You mean — she —“ Iruka knows what the look on Midori’s face must be, all horror and surprise and just that hint of gossiping glee that other girls always seem to have.

An instant later, Iruka’s brain catches up with what they’re implying.

“Why else would he have _appointed_ her an assistant teacher just like that?” There’s the sound of fingers snapping; Yutaka-sensei’s tone is nothing if not reasonable.

Iruka promised herself she wouldn’t make a scene. She promised herself she’d ignore gossip and ignore parents complaining about her and just focus on the kids and making sure she teaches them something useful, so even if she has to leave, she’ll have done them some good.

Iruka’s class starts their fifth lap, and she focuses on checking to see who’s falling behind. She half-expected (or hoped, really) that Naruto would tire himself out, be a little less energetic after they go back inside, but he’s still going strong.

“— disgusting, really,” Yutaka-sensei says, and Iruka knows just how her mouth is pursed in distaste, “to think she’d go so far. And with —“ she pauses just long enough for Midori to realize that she’s referring to the Hokage, not Aoba-sensei, “the sheer gall of it!”

Iruka promised herself she wouldn’t make a scene, and she knows she’ll regret this later, but she can’t stop herself.

“You poisonous bitch,” she hisses, rounding the corner to stand in front of the two of them. “You fucking poisonous bitches.” Midori freezes, staring at her. Yutaka-sensei looks taken aback, but Iruka knows this is what she wanted. She’s been on this side of Yutaka-sensei’s sharp tongue before, as a student, as a genin, even as a chuunin: Iruka always comes out the worse for wear.

“He’s your _Hokage_! How _dare_ you slander him like that?” Midori looks a little guilty; Yutaka-sensei just watches, mouth pursed small and tight.

“He’s like my _grandfather_!” Iruka hangs onto her self control with fingernails and sheer willpower, and closes her mouth. She’s sure her face is bright red, and she doesn’t care, as long as she doesn’t start crying in front of the kids.  
Yutaka-sensei opens her mouth.

“You can say whatever you want about me,” Iruka hisses at her, before she can speak. “You always have. But you leave the Sandaime Hokage out of it. You have filthy, _filthy_ minds, both of you.” She turns and walks back out to the playground, hoping the woman will just let it drop, though Iruka knows she won’t: Yutaka-sensei is old enough to be Iruka’s grandmother, and she always gets the last word: the presence of kids won’t make any difference to her if she’s willing to go this far.

But Iruka can’t bear the thought of her kids hearing any of that bitch’s lies. So when Yutaka-sensei is about to call after her, something soft and venomous and just barely, accidentally overheard, Iruka breaks the rules they were all taught, all the emphasis on subtle implications and turns of phrase, on withdrawing quietly from a conversation. She turns and says bluntly, loud enough for everyone in the playground to hear, all the other teachers, and the older students on their lunch break: “Not _all_ of us slept our way into our jobs, Yutaka-sensei.”

Then Iruka joins her class jogging, and encourages them to pick up the pace until none of them has enough breath to ask questions. She’s sure there will be complaints, and she’s sure they’ll be justified. But right now she’s just focusing on staying mad at Yutaka-sensei, because if she thinks too hard about what they were saying, she’s going to break down into tears in front of everyone.

* * *

When she’s finished with class for the day, Mizuki is waiting for Iruka at her classroom door.

“Quite the conversation,” she remarks, as they step out into the sunshine. “People are talking, you know.”

“Mizuki,” Iruka says, and she’s proud of how little quaver is in her voice, “Can we not talk about this right now?” She can’t bear to tell the Hokage: she knows she has to, and quick, before he finds out from anyone else.

“Of course,” Mizuki says, and Iruka feels a rush of relief: she’d been sure Mizuki would want to talk it to pieces, tell her what she should have done instead.

“I have to go take care of something,” Iruka says. “look, Mizuki, I don’t think I’ll be very good company tonight. Rain check?”  
Mizuki smiles, and agrees. When Iruka turns to hurry to the Hokage’s tower, Mizuki calls after her.

“Don’t worry, Iruka,” and her voice is loud and clear in the busy street, “I’m sure no one _important_ really believes that you slept your way into your job at the Academy.”

Iruka feels herself blushing bright red, and can see heads turn towards her at the sound of Mizuki’s voice. She just focuses on getting past all these people to the Hokage’s tower so she can explain. It won’t help anything if she breaks down in the middle of the street.

* * *

When Iruka gets to the Hokage’s Tower, worrying about every sideways glance, every person who looked away from her, she’s shown into the Hokage’s office as she usually is: but the ANBU outside the door leaves it open partway. Iruka all but falls into the chair in front of the Sandaime’s desk and explains the whole thing — was it a conversation? an argument? — as best she can. She’s relieved when she doesn’t start crying, though she does start hiccuping toward the end of it: she’s pretty sure she’s being recorded somehow, or that someone is taking a transcript out of sight. Iruka is able to give a word-for-word recitation of what Yutaka-sensei said, though so much of it was implication and tone of voice that Iruka’s sure nothing will come of it.

When she finishes talking, the Sandaime just pats her hand and tells her that what’s done is done. But Iruka has noticed that there’s been an ANBU conspicuously in sight in the room the whole time she’s alone with him, in addition to the partially-open door. She knows that the council will probably give him hell for this: they’ve taken him to task for her behavior before.

“I’m sorry,” she says after a short silence. “I shouldn’t have listened, I know. Next time I’ll try to — “ she takes a deep breath, “to go talk to someone else, or stand where I can’t hear them. I’m really sorry.” The Sandaime sighs, and Iruka can’t help how her shoulders hunch up a little bit: she had so hoped she wouldn’t disappoint him in this, too.

“Iruka,” the Sandaime says, and stands from behind his desk, coming around it to tug her up into a loose embrace, “it’s all right. You did very well.” She knows it’s weak, but Iruka allows herself to relax into the hug for just a moment. The Sandaime is a little shorter than she is, now, which Iruka doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to: she’s so accustomed to him being taller, being a safe, enveloping presence. He still smells a little like her grandfather, all tobacco and starched cloth.

“Okay,” Iruka says, taking a deep breath and stepping back. (She’d rather cling to him for a little longer, but people are already talking: she knows she can’t.) Iruka fixes a smile to her face: it almost doesn’t feel false. “Now I just have to deal with parents’ complaints, right?” They speak briefly about how best to approach that, and when she leaves Iruka is feeling a little bit better. But she can’t help but notice that the door is closed all the way after the shinobi who goes into the Sandaime’s office after her. And when Iruka walks home, it feels like everyone is watching her as she passes by, and she knows it’s not just her imagination.


End file.
